Change your mind, you’re always wrong
A year ago, we planned to do the entire construction of our new home in 12 months. Everyone told us it was an impossible deadline. Well, almost everyone: Our builder told us from day one that we would be hosting our family in the new home on Christmas day. We didn’t know if he was the last optimist in the world or the best builder in the universe. But we liked his
style.There have been complications along the way. Man, have there been complications. Every step has been like planning a walk on Mars. For example, the power company wouldn’t give us electricity until the city’s
building inspector approved the home for occupancy. And the building inspector wouldn’t approve the home until the power was on. (Huh?) Now multiply that problem times the 400-or-so people who worked on the project, either directly or indirectly. And imagine Shelly and me trying to pick everything from the color of the outlets to the curvy shape on the top of the baseboards.For the past month, dust was literally rising from the construction zone. Workers were on top of each other. Our builder, who is the most gifted project manager I have ever witnessed, was solving a seemingly unsolvable problem every ten minutes. All knowledgeable observers told us we wouldn’t be in by Christmas. It simply wasn’t possible. It wasn’t even close to possible.
We scheduled the movers for the weekend before Christmas, and e-mailed party invitations to family members for Christmas eve. We didn’t want our builder to be the last optimist in the world.
Ten days ago, we didn’t have a driveway. Rain was forecast. Lots of it. The sky turned grey. Neighbors saw worker’s trucks lined around the block. They knew we were serious about getting in by Christmas. They also knew it was impossible. The rain alone would be enough to stop us. You can’t move
furniture over mud. You need a driveway.We started packing our boxes.
The rain came. The driveway guys had huge plastic tarps. They worked between wet spells. The sound of drilling, sawing, and some of the most creative cussing you have ever heard emanated from the property. I guess no one told the crew working on the project that finishing by Christmas was impossible.
About a week ago, in the evening, I got a voice mail from our builder, Dave. He said, in construction lingo, that the panel was hot. We had power. It was the last major obstacle to occupancy. Inspections and approvals would follow quickly.
I can’t fully describe how the news made me feel. It was powerful. When the house became part of the electrical grid, it was if it became alive. The HVAC units rumbled and the structure breathed. Warm water circulated throughout the floors of the home to keep it at the perfect temperature. Soon after, the equipment rack in the wiring closet lit up, and the house had a brain. The brain connected to the Internet and became part of the world. It was a stucco baby delivered by 400 doctors. (…)
The movers estimated that we had 17,000 pounds of furniture and boxes to move from our old home and my old office. We thought we might have time to unpack some of them before our 35 relatives arrived and wondered what they were going to eat for Christmas Eve. We would need to lift and push and pull that 17,000 pounds ourselves about three more times after it got inside the house, and we needed to do it over a weekend. It was clearly an impossible task. Then Shelly told me that we were going to get a Christmas tree and decorate that too. That’s how we roll. If it doesn’t seem at least a little bit impossible, we’re not interested.
